


call it a date

by marzanna



Category: Persona 4
Genre: (for a very loose definition of the word), Gunplay, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M, Pre-Slash, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzanna/pseuds/marzanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Peacemaker's a small piece, deceptively so. Kanji kind of likes that. Makes sense. Naoto himself is power and energy in a small, brilliant package.</p><p>Written for Kink Bingo 2013 (yeah, okay, I'm a little late).</p>
            </blockquote>





	call it a date

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written fanfic in way too many years, so *throws confetti* here goes nothing!!!

Kanji never really got used to the idea of Naoto using guns.

It came as a bit of a shock, the first time the Investigation Team headed into Heaven. He'd never really asked - talking to Naoto still hadn't lost that nervewracking edge - but had assumed that his weapon would be a little more mundane. Like his senpai's swords, or Teddie's claw things.

Then Naoto blasts a Shadow's head clear off its shoulders with that tiny handgun. Teddie has to threaten to slap him silly before he gets himself back together.

\--

The Peacemaker's a small piece, deceptively so. Kanji kind of likes that. Makes sense. Naoto himself is power and energy in a small, brilliant package. It doesn't make the gun any easier to take in.

Were teenagers like them even allowed to have one? Kanji sits around a table where the whole crew gathers, Souji-senpai noticeably absent, a hole in the circle where he ought to be. No one takes his usual seat. It's times like these he feels much older than he should. But they're all still so... young. The case leaves him feeling more of a stupid kid than he's ever felt in his life.

Naoto's too young to be handling that thing, he knows that for sure.

The thought gives him a weird thrill in the pit of his stomach. Naoto, even in these pressing times, looks so sure with his hand idly resting on the grip of his gun (surer than Souji-senpai, to be sure, but who can blame the guy). Kanji's mind wanders to places he normally wouldn't let it, not unless he were just this tired and this stressed — idle thoughts of Naoto eying Shadows down the barrel of his gun, eyes alight and posture dangerously confident, almost cocky. Fear is a look Kanji knows well, from himself and from the others, but never from Naoto. Not with his finger on the trigger and the deliberate pace of his steps—

"Tatsumi-kun?" Naoto waves his fingers in front of his face. "Are you paying attention?"

"Kanji-kun looks sick," Teddie pipes up. "Maybe he needs to lie down!"

Across the table, Hanamura buries a snort in his jacket sleeve. "I don't think _that's_ what he needs."

"Whatever, man. I don't have time for this." He feels like he should be embarrassed, but he isn't. Just tired, a little sick to his stomach and a lot confused. Naoto and the others try to appease him, get him to sit back down (or, in Hanamura's case, whine that it was just a joke). He doesn't bother listening.

\--

When Naoto chews him out the next day, Kanji doesn't have a good answer. Or a reason why his eyes won't stay on Naoto for more than a few seconds.

\--

The next few days pass in a blur. Souji-senpai finally meets up with them again - something about "appropriate preparations", maybe, Kanji's only half-paying attention. His whole body thrums with restlessness. Every day that they're out here is another that they're not in there. And the rest of them are all off being smart or making preparations or whatever else that's shorthand for "Tatsumi's useless here".

Then Naoto invites him over to his house, and time kind of grinds to a halt.

"You, uh... huh?" It's not the smartest thing he's ever said.

"I said, I'd like for you to come over. For a talk. Forgive me for being presumptuous, but you seem... distracted," Naoto says, voice stilted. His posture is painfully stiff, and he tugs at his hat.

Kanji boggles. "Uh. Yeah! Yeah. I guess. I can do that, if you wanna." Heat prickles his cheeks.

"Good. Great, actually. I'll expect you at six o'clock tomorrow, if that's alright." He talks like he already knows the answer, even though Kanji just stammers and waves his hands around. It seems to be good enough for him, as he briskly turns and leaves.

Kanji's feet root him in place until the neighbours come calling for him.

\--

"You... you like my guns?" His voice comes out a sort of cracked warble. Naoto doesn't back away, however. "I'd assumed you were scared of them."

"What? No way! I ain't scared of some stupid gun," Kanji huffs. Naoto aims a critical look at him, and okay, that might not entirely be true. His skin burns. "They're just... I dunno. Distracting." Involuntarily, his legs cross. That razor-sharp gaze hones in on his every movement, and Naoto's face struggles to sort itself into one single expression, mouth and eyebrows doing a little dance.

Naoto turns toward the low table, where one of his revolvers rests among a set of cleaning supplies. He inspects it briefly, then clicks the cylinder back into place. Kanji's breathing turns rapid. From fear, or from horribly misplaced thrill, he can't tell. To be fair, Naoto probably can't either, and he gives the guy a hell of a lot of credit.

"It's not loaded," he says, low, almost hoarse. Of course it's not. Naoto wouldn't dare aim a loaded gun at him, right? Even if it's not aiming so much as it is carefully extending it in his direction, offering permission to look. Or touch. "Do you want to see it?"

Kanji gulps and nods.

"Alright. Three rules." Naoto runs a finger along the barrel. It takes Kanji an embarrassingly long time to realise that he's motioning for a reason. "Always keep the barrel pointed in a safe direction, even if it's unloaded." The words flow like they're a mantra he's recited many times over. "Never touch the trigger unless you're ready to shoot. Trigger fingers stay on the trigger guard." His hands guide Kanji's onto the gun before he even notices that Naoto is touching him, right here, right now, with the surety that he's come to anticipate. Their fingers meet on the edge of the guard. Naoto's hands drag burning paths along his skin, where they shift and adjust to accomodate for their small size.

An ugly, familiar warmth settles in Kanji's stomach. There couldn't be a worse time. But Naoto's focus is unflinching, and directed like a laser on their hands. Maybe he won't notice.

"Last rule. I've taken care of this one for you, but it's good to remember. Always make sure that the gun has the safety on and isn't loaded when you're not actively using it," Naoto murmurs. Gently, he tugs his fingers out from under Kanji's. He's left holding the (surprisingly hefty) revolver on his own.

"Y-You sure I should be holding this thing?"

"It's alright. I trust you, Tatsumi-kun." Naoto's mouth turns upward, the hint of a smile.

He swallows around a lump in his throat that wasn't there a minute ago. "Kanji."

"Hmm?"

"You can call me Kanji. If you want." Kanji scratches the back of his head with his free hand, taking care to hold the gun steady. "I mean, you don't have to or whatever. I just thought—"

"Kanji-kun." He rolls the word around, hesitant. "Please relax. It's fine."

Their eyes don't meet — mostly on Kanji's end, having found the floor intensely interesting while his stomach does cartwheels. He thumbs the Peacemaker's grip and rotates it in his hands. And, yeah, it was still a little terrifying to be holding something like this, but he feels the same way he did back when his senpai first let him tool around on one of their motorbikes; dangerous, alive, and a hell of a lot older than he really was. Is this how Naoto feels all the time?

...Probably not. Naoto's, like, a cop. With a real job. To him, this must be just like filing paperwork, or something.

"So."

Naoto's voice catches him off guard. He nearly drops the gun, but fumbles it in his hands just in time. (Naoto definitely notices that time.)

"Would you like to try shooting one?" he asks. Before Kanji knows it, Naoto's up in his personal space, fingers resting on the grip (on top of his hands, Kanji definitely does not think). "I could pull some strings at the firing range. That is, if they're not fed up of the 'child detective' already." His shoulders roll up, a self-conscious shrug balanced by that same smile.

It's a little hard to think when he's  _so goddamn close._

_\--_

Kanji's still not sure how exactly they end up at the firing range next week - somewhere in between the butterflies in his stomach and the way his mouth went to mush, he must have said yes - but as far as first dates go, it's pretty damn nice.


End file.
